


A Noteworthy Dalliance

by Freyajade99



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Cute, Drunk Witchers, Dubcon Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff and Humor, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jealousy, M/M, Protectiveness, Rough Sex, Sexual Frustration, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22129549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freyajade99/pseuds/Freyajade99
Summary: "Just goes to show that I can play more than just instruments, Geralt."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 10
Kudos: 271
Collections: GERALT AND JASKIER ARE FUCKING GAY, Jaskier/others (besides or with Geralt)





	1. Chapter 1

The road on the path was long, and any small break from the tireless life on the road was welcome, even for someone who only thought of the Trial of the grasses as a long distant memory. 

In his worn black leather gambeson, the white-haired Geralt rode into an inn. It could have been any inn, in any village, in any place on the godforsaken continent. "Maybe someone needs some help, looking light on coin" Geralt thought to himself. As he stabled Roach and approached the inn, the soft, panicked whispers of those around him had eventually become white noise. They all said the same thing, remarked on either his eyes, his stench or his swords.

A familiar chord struck with Geralt as he strode into the ramshackled inn, it was Jaskier, strumming his ornate lute with a dexterity more fit for the halls of a court than the disinterested audience he was currently playing to. 

A voice called out to Geralt; "Oi, Vatt'ghern! Got a job for you", almost immediately as he walked in. It was an elven man and one that looked more than monied to give Geralt a healthy dose of coin for whatever he needed. "So, we've got a bit of a problem in the woods, Witcher. A problem only you can help us sort out." 

"I'm listening" Geralt replied, his mind wandering towards how much a bed was rather than listening to the elf's job. Their conversation continued as they sat down in a quiet corner of the inn.

Clearly the room full of drunks and sellswords didn't appreciate Jaskier; a shaggy-looking plump man shouted to Jaskier from behind the bar. "Bard! We need to renegotiate the terms of your payment." After abruptly stopping his ballad, Jaskier sighed and muttered to himself "Of course, Jaskier, these audiences just don't understand your art, not their fault though, no one taught them to appreciate artistry, just want songs about tits and ale."

Jaskier begrudgingly followed the innkeep upstairs and into a room. Suddenly the door slammed behind him and Jaskier found himself surrounded by a group of burly men. Before he knew it he was on the floor gasping for air, slowly losing consciousness.

"Yeah, sure, I'll take the job" Geralt replied to the wealthy-looking elf disinterestedly, before turning his attention to Jaskier's lute, sitting at the corner of the inn.

He quickly strode over to Jaskier's lute, knowing that he'd never let it out of his sight unless something was wrong. Geralt's Witcher instincts kicked in, he knew something was off. It was then that he heard the loud thump coming from upstairs in the inn. He stormed to the upstairs in the inn, tracked the noises of the room and opened a door.

"Fuck off!" a gruff man's voice bellowed from inside the room. He was butt-naked, and knuckle deep in another man's bum. Geralt's eyes widened before turning around, forgetting to close the door behind him before finally finding a locked door, bolted shut. He contorted his hands into the Aard sign, and the door blew forward, knocking out two men, before finding Jaskier, his lips bloodied, his breeches lowered to his knees, exposing his bruised hips where he'd been beaten. Geralt snarled, and turned his ire towards the men in the room and drew his sword, his feet as swift as the best dancers in the world, and before anyone could even process his entrance, everyone in the room was dead, except Jaskier. 

Barely lucid, Jaskier cried out "Geralt... when?" before passing out again. Geralt's arms lowered to the bed where Jaskier lie and scooped him up with a single arm and slung him over his shoulder like he was a feather, before making his way back downstairs and quickly escaped. Jaskier's lute lay in the corner, forgotten. Geralt mounted Jaskier upon Roach with haste and reckless abandon. "What's another bruise" Geralt thought to himself before getting on Roach, his arms carefully positioned between Jaskier and the reins of Roach. They rode into the night.

After hours of riding, with no signs of Jaskier gaining consciousness, Geralt knew he needed to find a place away from the inn to rest, just to make sure that they weren't cut down during the night. He found an ideal spot, dismounted and carefully lay Jaskier on the ground. Jaskier contorted himself into a fetal position and comfied up on the patch of dry grass, still out like a light. "What do you think, Roach? He's out like a Skelligan after a heavy night. Should probably leave him be instead of trying to tend to his wounds, eh." 

Geralt lit a fire, and started to wind down for the night. He disrobed his tight leather Witcher's gear. Wolf Medallion reflecting against the fire on his bare, rippled chest, scars exposed to the wind. He went to clean his bloodied steel blade, grabbing a cloth from Roach's pouch.

As the sun started to come up hours later, Jaskier felt something warm on the tumbled his scraggy brown hair around before coming to know he was lying on a dry patch of grass. Quickly the pangs of pain where he'd been beaten came to him as he loudly groaned. 

Geralt quickly turned towards Jaskier, his imposing, muscular frame coming into focus in front of Jaskier's eyes as Geralt kneeled towards him. For a moment, Jaskier tried to get away, his weakened arms and legs pushing dirt in front of him to get away before realising that it was Geralt, who has had quarrelled with just weeks beforehand. 

"G-Geralt?" Jaskier quivered. Geralt, his hair blowing in the wind and still shirtless approached him. "You were drugged back at an inn, almost got your arse torn apart by an innkeeper with a thing for little, handsome bards." 

Jaskier's face flushed red. "What? You weren't even there, the last thing I remember is renegotiating payment and setting my lute down." Geralt dashed a condescending grin towards Jaskier and explained the evening's events. 

"Well. Shit. I mean, you didn't have to kill them!" Jaskier quipped. "Nice to know my help was appreciated" scoffed Geralt. Jaskier's face softened, his light blue eyes looking directly at Geralt's. They were inches away. Geralt wiped the dried blood off of Jaskier's lips as he cocked a grin, stood up and turned away. Jaskier felt his arms flutter with goosebumps. His mind wandered before quickly snapping back into focus as he attempted to stand back up, adjusting his worn ornate clothing.

"Fuck. My lute, Geralt. Where's my lute?!" Jaskier said as his hands pulled nervously at the sleeves of his clothes. "What? Your lute? Shouldn't you be more thankful that you left with your life?" replied Geralt with a dismissive tone. 

"My voice can only take me so far, and that was the lute that Filivandrel gave to me when we were at Posada years ago, we need to get it back!" Jaskier's voice trembled. 

"Just get another one, lutes are hardly a rarity" Geralt snapped back at Jaskier, who was now visibly upset. "I know you claimed that I was somehow the source of all of your misfortune Geralt. But we're friends. Friends Geralt, and a friend would help another friend in need." Jaskier's voice cracked mid-sentence. 

Geralt let out a low growl and whispered "Fuck" under his breath. "Backwater like that, we can easily find your lute, but not before I teach you how to hold your own in a fight, stop being dead weight."

Geralt approached the ground, finding two small sticks of wood to spar with. He peered towards Jaskier "You fit to at least try to learn?"

Jaskier nodded, quickly checking the bruising on his body before straightening out his shirt. Geralt, still shirtless threw a stick that Jaskier fumbled catching, quickly scraping the ground before getting up and imitating a witcher's stance, although, far more sweet than imposing, his tight breeches rustled as he spread his legs far apart, holding the stick as if it were a blade of pure silver.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, bard" Geralt snickered before Jaskier let out a low tenor as he bolted towards Geralt, who was caught off guard as he tumbled backwards onto the grass, Jaskier's stick breaking against Geralt's bare abdomen as his head hit Geralt's chest. After a moment, Jaskier stared into Geralt's yellow eyes and chuckled.

Bemused by Jaskier's charge, Geralt grabbed both of Jaskier's arms and lifted him back off his now muddied chest. "Well, if you scream a note like that out again, maybe you'll stand a fighting chance." Jaskier smiled back at Geralt, quietly excited at being this close to Geralt. His heart raced as he felt his cock stiffen against Geralt's abdomen, unable to hide.

Geralt peered back at Jaskier. "Your stick." Soon after the words left Geralt's mouth he felt a dull throb against him and dashed a look back into Jaskier's eyes. 

"Fuck it."

As soon as the words left Geralt's mouth he grabbed onto Jaskier's Shirt, tearing it open from the front as he angled his face towards Jaskier, who complied. Geralt quickly moved in to kiss Jaskier, his hand cupping the back of Jaskier's head and another slowly working its way down his back. Jaskier throbbed harder. The rush of blood, adrenaline, sweat and daze convinced him this was all a part of some lucid dream.

Geralt grabbed onto the top of Jaskier's short brown hair and forcefully pushed it down towards his belt. Jaskier didn't even stop to think about what he was doing, he undid the belt binding Geralt's leather pants and pulled it down, revealing the Witcher's hard penis, it's tip glazed with precum as Jaskier's tongue started to lick it. His mouth went around it, and Geralt thrust, moaning in pleasure as Jaskier carefully sucked it, his hands and mouth stroking and sucking faster, faster, and faster. Geralt grew more aggressive until he came into Jaskier's mouth and let out a moan.

Geralt's bare chest rose and fell quickly afterwards, with Jaskier swallowing the aftermath, somehow hoping that Geralt's cum would somehow give him Witcher-like powers in his head.  
"Well, looks like I won our first sparring match, though you came off lightly." Geralt said, with a satisfying sigh following the intense orgasm. 

Jaskier tossed his head back off of Geralt's cock, tilting his head to one side and replied: "Just goes to show that I can play more than just instruments, Geralt." Jaskier snickered and slowly raised himself back up to his feet, his heart aflutter with the idea that he didn't just kiss the Witcher, but more. He looked forward to his next sparring match with the famed white wolf, quietly yearning for more. 

Geralt stood and started to do his belt back up, as he donned his black leather gambeson that was packed by the ashes of the fire from the night before. "My lute, shit. How are we going to get it back? You may as well have slaughtered half the town".

"I have an idea, you'll get your precious lute back. I'll see to that." Geralt approached Jaskier confidently, sheathing the blade he polished the night before onto his back, before grasping Jaskier's chin and blessing it with a soft kiss. "We'll get your lute back." He said again softly in a gravelly tone before turning back, striding towards Roach with newfound vigor. 

"This contract, it seems like a band of Scoia'tel roam in the nearby wood, driven out of their homes by the town's new denizens thanks to the great cleansing. An well-dressed elf in the inn seemed to slip by the locals. The contract was for a higher vampire, lives back in the town. Lead the charge against the elves. We visit the Scoia'tel, help them get rid of this vampire to take their home and you get your lute back." Jaskier looked at Geralt in disbelief.

"Can't we just go back and forget about the contract?" Jaskier moaned back at Geralt. "Not as simple as that. I revealed myself in the inn, not only to take the contract but by killing the innkeep and his men, guessing they won't be happy to see me if I just waltzed back in like an old friend." Geralt said as he hopped up onto Roach.

Jaskier cracked a smile. "Vampires, Elves, a village with a dark secret and more sparring matches? You don't happen to have a book I can write in?"

"Just keep pace. We'll figure out the rest when we reach the Scoia'tel encampment." Jaskier complied, walking beside Geralt and Roach as they headed towards the woods.


	2. Hungry Like the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Geralt and Jaskier set out to fulfill the contract and to get Jaskier's lute back, they encounter a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I had to bribe my fiance to write another chapter but as promised here is chapter 2. Feedback and comments are welcome, really appreciate it and chapter 3 should be finished quicker as he's already started it! We both had a lot of fun whilst he wrote this one!!

Hungry Like the Wolf, A Noteworthy Dalliance - Chapter Two

Jaskier rode with Geralt in the woods, looking for the Scoi'atel encampment. The air was humid, it was starting to finally get warm. Without hesitation, Geralt brought Roach to a stop.

"This doesn't look like a camp, Geralt" Jaskier snipped. Geralt's eyes dashing towards Jaskier as if he were a bad smell, the witcher said: "Yes, and we will keep riding until our bones rot away and my arse stops fucking chafing against this horse." His tight leather trousers creaked against his chiseled bottom as he attempted to get off Roach.

"This fucking weather, don't teach you this shit in Kaer Mor-" There was a large tearing noise. Geralt looked down in dismay as he found that his precious leather had finally given way, his sizeable endowment on show for all, showing off his white underpants- to Jaskier and vegetation alike. 

Jaskier looked on, half in astonishment, and half with other thoughts running through his mind. He absently bit his bottom lip, looked away and hopped off of Roach as Geralt started to have a small tantrum, yelling to himself as he peeled himself out of his leather pants. 

"Luckily for you Geralt, we have nothing but nature and each other, poetic- isn't it? Maybe you simply weren't meant to be wearing anything as we return to the Earth." Jaskier danced across the vegetation, strumming the empty arms where his lute would usually lie. 

"Shut up. Starting to sound like one of those scholars from Oxenfurt." Geralt was visibly aggravated as he let out a primal grunt and quickly looked around in his bags for anything to cover the tear.

The witcher stood up, now wearing nothing but his underwear and confidently strode towards Jaskier with a knife in his hand. "Another lesson? Jaskier quietly thought to himself, before having his thoughts rudely interrupted by Geralt, as he forcefully pulled the bard towards him with his inhuman strength. Jaskier shivered as he slowly stumbled forward, his other, unoccupied hand now on Geralt's chest. 

"Take it, make yourself useful." Geralt uttered as he put a small knife into Jaskier's hands. 

"What, and you get to keep TWO swords, and give me a breadknife? Come on! How is that fair?!" Jaskier quickly retorted, skewing his soft face to the side as he tried to tear himself away from Geralt's glistening, scar-ridden torso. 

"The last time I gave you a sword... well. We know how it ended" 

Jaskier became flustered almost immediately, he remembered what happened then, and in his mind wished it would happen again. 

Geralt cracked a wry smile as he turned his eyes towards the torn trousers behind him. "FUCKING LEATHER! Get some food, and we can have our little chat later." Jaskier turned around and felt proud, smiling to himself and vocalised the joy with a small laugh he tried to contain as he walked away, into the woods. 

Jaskier searched through the forest and twilight turned to dusk, with all manner of squelching mud and cracking twigs betwixt his feet as he marched on, determined to find something actually worth eating that wasn't a half-rotted bird of some kind. He had to hunt, but Jaskier knew within himself that he couldn't come to kill an animal with his bare hands. As he lurched onward, he became acutely aware of just how humid it was and unbuttoned his shirt.

As he let out a sigh of pleasure as he felt the faint wind reach his body, Jaskier heard the cracking of a twig from afar and came to attention, whipping out the knife that Geralt had given him. His eyes searched through the shrubbery as he found it- a perfect, plump squirrel.

In his best impression of a Witcher hunting a monster, Jaskier slowly crept towards the squirrel. He needed to get close. Deftly concentrating on the innocent squirrel in front of him and whispered under his breath: "Die, you piece of filth!" The bard was in spitting distance of the squirrel, and in one swift motion managed to stab the small knife in the general direction of the squirrel, managing to lose his balance and trip over into the mud face-first. 

Quickly wiping the muck from his face the bard turned to his side and Jaskier eyed the dead squirrel in front of him. His eyes pondered upwards. The squirrel was quite dead indeed, but not by the hands of his tiny breadknife, even with his best Witcher impression. 

The plump squirrel was butchered, three deep claw marks rent its body apart, harsh viscera trying to escape from its body, even though it was too late. That was when Jaskier started to hear a low growl, a heavy, warm feeling near him. He knew he was in danger, he looked towards the source of the noise and quickly kicked the dirt beneath his feet as he lay exposed on the ground. It didn't take a Witcher to work out what was stood before him. It was a Werewolf, frenzied and hungry. 

Jaskier's eyes darted at the ground, looking for anything to defend himself- he even wished that the tiny knife that Geralt had given him was back in his hands. The Werewolf let out a howl and sprung forward towards Jaskier. The bard shielded his face, but the Werewolf howled again as Jaskier felt a hot breeze flow towards him.

He didn't dare look as he heard the crash of silver against flesh, the quiet utterance of signs as he cowered into a ball in the mud. "Geralt, Geralt has come for me. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay." Jaskier whispered to himself. He heard a wail as something hit the ground, hard. It was either The Witcher or the werewolf. 

He eyed the muddy boots on the ground and without hesitation quickly crawled to it and gasped "Thank the gods Geralt, one moment it was a Squirrel and the next there were guts on the ground and this big werewolf and it stank and-"

Jaskier realised something. Geralt wasn't wearing boots or trousers... He let go of the leg and darted to his feet, his eyes meeting another. Cat's eyes and dark stubble against a hardened face and a slightly crooked nose. Jaskier quickly came to the conclusion that no, this wasn't Geralt, but another stone-faced, brooding Witcher.

"Could have gotten yourself killed, little bird." The Witcher gruffly uttered as Jaskier, trying to hide tears in his eyes as he backed away from the mysterious Witcher. "Taken a liking to my dear wolf brother Geralt, eh. He always liked 'em skinny."

"W-who are you?" Jaskier quivered as he found the tiny breadknife on the ground, picked it up and pointed it at the Witcher. "A Witcher, dumbass" the mysterious man sneered as he approached Jaskier and ruffled his head. "Cute little thing, aren't you. So where's Geralt, then?"

Jaskier bashfully stuttered "Wha- How do you know Geralt's even here, and how do I know you're not just gonna pick a fight with him?" The Witcher let out a belly laugh as he said "Hah, what? Me? Kill Geralt? We basically grew up together! What're you trying to do? Protect him? Got a little crush? I can change that."

The bard quickly became flustered as the dark-haired Witcher whistled for his horse. "Come on, little bird. Name's Lambert, school of the wolf, just like your precious little Geralt, I'm not gonna hurt him." 

Jaskier could do nothing but give in to the whim of the rogue Witcher Lambert, who had a tongue as sharp as his silver blade. Jaskier showed him the way back to where he and Geralt had set up camp, letting out a yawn as the adrenaline left his body. Lambert and Jaskier walked for what seemed like hours before Lambert took notice, and hoisted the bard up onto his horse in front of himself. Jaskier found comfort in the warmth and safety of the rugged Witcher's body. 

After riding for a while, the night grew deeper, and Lambert finally reached Geralt's camp.  
"Well well well, if it isn't the White Wolf, now- did they name you that because you look like an old man, or because of your tighty-whiteys." Geralt darted a look back at Lambert, his eyes filled with rage as the now-asleep Jaskier rested his head upon Lambert's chest. Geralt felt a pang of an unknown feeling. He couldn't quite place it. Why was Lambert here? Why was Lambert here with Jaskier asleep on him? He quickly came back to his senses as he growled: "Fuck off." 

"Aw, caught your pet bird eh? I took a contract from a little cute hamlet near here. Sweet girl, saying her daddy hadn't come home and her mum had gone missing. Lo an behold, you poke around the woods a little, momma's dead, dad's eaten her and surprise! He's a Werewolf now, and your little guy here was right in the middle of it all, about to be shredded to pieces."

"He's not my /little guy/. He's just looking for the material. He's a bard." Geralt scoffed, trying to save face as to why he was in the woods, in his underwear with a deceptively young-looking bard. 

"Wakey wakey little bird! Got you back to your Daddy!" Lambert shoved Jaskier off of himself as Jaskier woke up as he fell, but before he hit the ground- Lambert caught him once again, much to the increasing silent annoyance of Geralt. "Oh fuck, oh fucking hell." Jaskier snapped as he hung in midair like a piece of meat, waiting to be traded at a market. "I was having a pretty good dream, I'll have you know, Wilmot" 

"It's LAMBERT." snapped the rough-looking witcher as he dropped Jaskier on the ground, the bard almost angelically falling to his feet, with his arms crossed, as if nothing ever happened. Lambert got off of his horse and stabled it to a nearby tree, next to Roach. The horses knew each other well. 

The lakeside camp now had three by its fire, Lambert providing the unassuming duo with a meal of dried meat. After taking a bite of an unknowable, chewy cured meat, Lambert walked over to his horse and rooted around in his satchel. Unearthing a pair of worn trousers and throwing it over the fire, towards Geralt's direction. The white-haired Witcher caught it with one hand. The material letting out a dull squelch before Geralt quickly dropped it and let out yet another low growl. 

"Yeah, had a whale of a time in those, big old saggy tits she had." Jaskier looked on in disgust, the bard was in a bizarre situation, being saved by two different Witchers on two consecutive days, but Lambert was very different to Geralt, less refined, wilder. He felt his heartbeat quicken before he put those thoughts aside. 

Lambert dashed a quick smile in Jaskier's direction before turning his attention to the Geralt, who was now drying the wet trousers, seemingly without a care in the world. 

"Life on the path isn't all Kings and Princesses, as Geralt would have you think, little bird. Sometimes you just need to cut a water hag up before she covers you in mud." He chortled as Geralt sat there silently, the now-warm trousers had now dried, flecks of mud cracked off as put them on." 

"Amazing, isn't it Lambert?" Geralt stood facing his fellow Witcher, now fully-clothed. "What?" Lambert retorted. "Always been a prick." Geralt replied. "Now is that a way you talk to an old friend, known each other for what? Sixty, seventy years now, I feed you and your caged bird and THIS is how you treat me? I mean, fuck me, you didn't even have any trousers. I literally clothed you, and I even gave you some food, so don't start now." Lambert stood up, and approached Geralt with ire. 

The two Witcher's eyes stared into each other with fire, before Lambert backed off, chuckled and said "Got some good liquor as a payment for a contract a while ago. Now, why don't you fill me in on whatever the fuck you've gotten yourself into." He raised his arm above and around Geralt's shoulders, giving it a pat before once again returning to his horse, unearthing bottles of sprits that made Jaskier instinctively dry-heave. 

The pair of Witchers shared the strong drinks between themselves, completely ignoring the bard, much to his annoyance. Geralt recounted what had happened just a few days after Lambert arrived at the same hamlet that Geralt had also taken a contract from. Lambert noted that he missed the pair just by a few days, as he was preparing the blade oils to take on the Werewolf. 

"So, still need to find the Squirrels?" Lambert hiccuped as he looked toward Geralt, who nodded."Half." Lambert said. Geralt knocked back his third drink and nodded lazily before replying; "Half."

The night wore on as Jaskier was wistfully humming to himself, forlorn at the loss of his lute, which could be anywhere, in the dirty hands of anyone in that town. He came to attention as Lambert called his name. "Try some of this shit, bard." Lambert stumbled over towards Jaskier as the witcher thrust a drink towards his lips forcefully. As soon as the liquid met Jaskier's mouth, he immediately spat it out.

"See, I don't have any baby ale. Witchers need some shit to get wasted." Lambert chuckled to himself as he almost stumbled straight into the fire and headed back towards the Horse to grab another drink.

"Well. I think I have had enough of this Witcherly chat. I had a pretty normal day. You know, usual Bard stuff, hunting a rabbit in the woods with a breadknife before being set upon by a werewolf. I'm going to sleep." Jaskier, frustrated found a small grassy knoll to lay his head upon and quickly found his eyes getting heavier. 

Meanwhile, Geralt stumbled back up to his feet and headed to the lake to take a leak. He concentrated hard on attempting not to pee all over his feet as he swayed with the light wind. Not far behind him was Lambert, drink in hand who started to do the same next to him. 

The full moon glistened in the sky, cutting through clouds. Its reflection shimmering by the small lake. Lambert looked Geralt up and down, lingering on his crotch. "Steel." 

The rough Witcher then looked at his own crotch and joined Geralt for a piss as he said "...And Silver". The immaculate reflection of the moon was only being disturbed by the pair from Kaer Morhen, both emptying their bladders.

The pair continued drinking, sharing stories into the night of their own training trials with Vesemir at Kaer Morhen. Soon, Lambert was passed out by the fire, sprawled out like a starfish. Geralt looked at Lambert before turning his attention towards Roach. He slowly stumbled towards the mare, attempting not to fall over rogue branches while earnestly saying "Roach... I'm so...sorry" His head seemingly trying its best to hit the ground as Geralt attempted to correct the balance of his own body as he leaned on the dark brown horse.

He hiccuped "eye... not paid attention." His face scrunched as he remembered just how close Jaskier looked with Lambert as they rode in earlier in the evening. "He's a prick, Jaskier...would never" He slurred at the horse before defiantly trotting towards the sleeping bard, picking up a single foot as he started to drag him closer to the lakeside. 

"G-Geralt? What are you doing? You stink!" Jaskier took to covering his nose and stood up as Geralt once again picked up two branches. "Jaskieeerrrrrrr. Second lesson." Geralt's slurred speech hardly resembled the common tongue at this point, before the witcher lazily threw a branch towards Jaskier. 

"You just....gotta" Geralt started a sloppy pirouette, branch in hand as he started to throw his musculature around. Geralt's large branch quickly hit Jaskier's side before the bard could even blink. Jaskier let out a yelp as the branch cracked against his barely-healed bruises. As soon as the branch hit Jaskier, Geralt's intoxicated faculties lead him to faceplant the ground immediately. 

Jaskier held his ribs in pain and picked up the branch that Geralt left at his feet and started to poke at the Witcher. Even when intoxicated, Geralt's extensive training and mutations left a permanent mark that no man could control; instinct.

Geralt turned over, and tackled Jaskier to the ground in one swift motion, his body moving faster than his mind. With one hand tightly grasped around his neck, his face inches above Jaskier's, he let out a quick snarl that simmered towards a more docile tone as his intoxication caught up with his body.

"Jaskier..." Geralt's eyes looked sullen as his face came closer to the bard's. As their lips met, Geralt softened the grasp around Jaskier's neck, his hand firmly gripping the back of his head as Jaskier put his arms around Geralt's defined torso. Time crawled at this moment, as both had no idea what they were doing, or why. Geralt didn't care, his lips moving down towards Jaskier's neck, his other arm slowly wandering down Jaskier's body as he started to try to take Jaskier's pants off. 

Jaskier, caught up in the moment of Geralt's unlikely passion came to his senses, the pungent smell of the strong spirits that the witcher duo were drinking poisoned the atmosphere. "Stop. Geralt? Stop." Geralt continued anyway, manhandling Jaskier's body as his hands started to grope at Jaskier's crotch. "Geralt, stop, no." 

Geralt's hands then immediately pinned Jaskier down by the arms as he started to deeply bite Jaskier's neck. Jaskier started to panic, Geralt kept going, lower down Jaskier's body firmly in place, until Geralt finally made a false move; removing his hand from pinning down Jaskier's left arm, which is now roughly caressing Jaskier's body up and down. Jaskier looked over to a large rock by the lakeside, now in grasp with his free arm, grabbed it and swiftly swung his arm towards the back of Geralt's head. As the blow from the rock struck, Geralt immediately stopped and slumped over Jaskier. 

Crushed under the weight of Geralt's body, stinking of booze and with a firm feeling of violation, Jaskier took some time worming out from underneath Geralt, in disbelief that Geralt would betray his wishes like that; "Is that all I am to him? Just a pretty face? Does he even care about the Lute or does he just want to get his contract over and done with? Jaskier thought to himself as he got up to his feet in frustration. He approached the grassy knoll that he lay at just minutes ago, clutching his ribs. Injured from the bruising back in the village, and now from the impact of Geralt's drunken "lesson".

Jaskier stretched and let out a long sigh. Unable to sleep. 

As the Kaer Morhen duo awoke the next morning, the Witcher's were back in business, and Jaskier chose to ignore Geralt as they got ready to head towards the Scoi'atel encampment once again. This time, Jaskier walked beside Lambert, who was recounting a story where he had once encountered a doppler, who was working as a Courtesan in one of Novigrad's finest establishments.

Geralt felt the bruise on the back of his head, trying to ignore the sinking pit in his stomach as he saw Jaskier and Lambert laughing with each other. He once again felt the same pangs of a feeling he's never experienced before, the one he felt as he saw the pair rode into the lakeside encampment. He frowned as he turned his attention to his headache. He hadn't drank like that for years, the thump on his head must have been from Lambert, he couldn't remember much anything after taking a leak with him by the lakeside.

The trio came to a small grassy outcrop, untouched by the trees surrounding it. Lambert and Jaskier were laughing together about another one of Lambert's anecdotes. Geralt's mind only concentrating on the fact that Jaskier didn't let out anything but a "Back to your grumpy old self again? Good." to him.

As soon as the trio reached the clear area that wasn't surrounded by woodland, there was something off. There was the sound of an arrow cutting the wind pierced the air and perforated Jaskier's shoulder. The bard fell to the ground as both Witchers immediately came to attention. Geralt, enraged looked at Jaskier, who was now writhing on the ground in pain. He wouldn't let anyone hurt him, not again. Geralt snarled as the Witcher duo surveyed their surroundings. There was a rustling in the woods in front and around them. 

"Fuck." Geralt snipped, trying to ignore Jaskier's cries of agony on the grass. 

Lambert didn't even look at the bard on the ground, only focussing on the immediate threat in front of their party. Twenty men emerged from around them. Both Witchers dismounted from their horses and unsheathed their steel, blades glistening in the sunlight as the cries of the charging men grew closer. "Just like Papa Vesemir taught us." Lambert said to Geralt. Each Witcher stood, their backs to each other, with Jaskier in the middle of them, still in pain.

This time, Geralt's mind kept at pace with his body. Distracted, his arm was cut by one of the men. Lambert cast Aard as the man lunged at Geralt, whose efforts were now in vain as he was blown away by the rugged witcher's sign. Lambert, still fighting quipped "The fuck you playing at Geralt, you're better than this."

Coming to his senses, Geralt lifted his arms into a defensive stance. Now sound of mind, he joined Lambert. The Witchers started cutting the men down like silk handled by a master seamstress. They both contorted into flowing forms more akin to a dancer than anyone trained for battle. Steel clashed, blood spilled and signs were cast as the pair of wolves met their ill-prepared aggressors. Meanwhile, Jaskier faded out of consciousness, the arrow still starkly pointing out of his shoulder. 

After the yelling stopped, and the duo once again surveyed their surroundings, their senses no longer dulled by the near-undrinkable poison from the night before. Geralt quickly then turned his attention towards Jaskier. The wound didn't look good for Jaskier, bloodied and unconscious. He knew what to do. Geralt hopped onto Roach as Lambert picked up the injured bard and handed him off to Geralt, who placed him in front of himself, propping Jaskier's body up against his own. "It'll be alright, little bird." Lambert said softly. Geralt chose to ignore Lambert and harshly retorted "How far?"

"Half a day's ride." Lambert said as he mounted his mare. "The fuck we waiting for then." Geralt stormed off into a gallop on Roach, Lamber quickly following behind. Exasperated from the engagement minutes before, Lambert panted as he said "Those men, they weren't trained. Listen Geralt, something else is going on here, a higher vampire can't control men to do their bidding."

Geralt didn't respond. 

The wolves rode towards the direction of the nearby Scoi'atel encampment, for answers, and for the injured Jaskier.


	3. Killing Loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt broods. Jaskier and Lambert have a fateful encounter, resulting in an explosive clash of emotion between the two witchers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read the notes from chapter one, you will know it is my fiance writing this with my help because I can't write crap. Annnnnd he's gone and finished chapter 3. We hope you guys enjoy it!! Think he got a bit self-conscious writing m/m there were several versions actually if anyone is interested XD  
> The chapters are named after what he listens to for inspiration when writing so this one is named after a HIM song.
> 
> oh also, WARNINGS!!  
> The content in this chapter is a bit darker in places. I would definitely point out that is intended as fully consensual but could be considered to have elements of DUBCON in places because Jaskiers sort of under the influence of drugs so his enjoyment of certain situations is sort of unclear. 
> 
> That's all, enjoy.

Jaskier's eyes widened as he found himself awake and very much alive. He was in a tent- "Must have been Lambert or Geralt's" he thought to himself, as the sharp pain in his shoulder jolted his head back down onto a soft pillow. Jaskier’s head seemed to pass through the pillow as his head spun as someone entered the tent.

"Took a bad hit" the deep voice was immediately recognisable, it was Geralt of Rivia. With a sunken look in his eyes, he squatted on the ground, taking extra care to ensure that his trousers had enough slack to make sure that he didn't rip them on the way down.

"Lucky for you, the Scoia'tael have unique methods, and managed to patch you up pretty quickly." Geralt then slapped his arm down on Jaskier's wound, as if nothing had hit him earlier. Jaskier didn't feel a thing, oddly enough. He soon realised that the pain he felt just a moment ago was a placebo, he turned his head to look towards his body and there were no bruises, just a small scabbing in the area where the arrow pierced his skin.

"What the hell did they do to me?!" The last thing I remember, I, I-" As Jaskier's face looked in Geralt's direction, he quickly remembered what happened by the lakeside and closed himself off, swaying as whatever had healed him had left his faculties in a somewhat compromised state. Geralt still had no memory of the events that occurred just a few nights before. Meanwhile, Jaskier mustered the strength to pick his body up and cross his arms. "Well, we learned that-" Geralt couldn't finish the sentence before Jaskier slurred out "So where's Lambert?" Geralt frowned as he stood back up and uttered "Outside" as he left the tent, clearly annoyed at Jaskier's dismissive tone.

Geralt's visible jealousy followed him out of the tent, and towards Roach, where he mounted the mare and rode into darkness, alone, angry, and confused.

Jaskier stumbled his way out of the tent. “Oooh, fall for a Witcher why don’t you” he said to himself as he carried his body into the encampment. Jaskier saw just how ramshackle the encampment really was. Bits of wood strewn together, basic provisions and tents, and not much else. He spied a bench where Lambert sat by candlelight, smoking a pipe with an ale in hand. “...Fall for a witcher eh?” Jaskier smiled as he muttered under his breath, his head swaying from the potent medicine from earlier. "Bard, wings all mended now?" The rugged Witcher shouted to Jaskier.

"Squirrels said you'd be fine after a couple nights. Tell you what, never seen Geralt act like that before. Just riding off on his own, never been much for words." Lambert's grin towards Jaskier mellowed as Jaskier's eyes glazed over, as he started to recount his and Geralt's previous conversation.

"Haha, bullshit, Geralt's never been that petty. He was by your side while you were out, putting all kinds of shit into you. Tell you what, you and Geralt must have traveled together before or something. Never took any mind to it." Lambert swigged at his drink as he looked expectantly in Jaskier's direction. "Well, there was more. The other night, when you both got blind drunk. He tried something." Jaskier's voice quivered as Lambert put his drink down. "What exactly do you mean?"

* * *

Geralt stopped Roach dead, the camp no longer in sight. He was back by the lakeside camp, by the ashes of the fire that they were at just a few days prior. Night had once again fallen as he dismounted Roach. Still irritated by Jaskier's seeming newfound attraction towards Lambert. He took his leather armour and shirt off as he drew his blade out from its sheath. In his frustration, he viscerally hacked at a nearby tree out of pure frustration. Thoughts running through his mind as he drew his blade from out of the tree, and cast Aard. The tree made an ear-piercing creak as it fell into the lake as groups of birds fluttered out of the nearby trees. Geralt was alone, again.

* * *

"Are you fucking serious?" Lambert stood up and made his way to the opposite bench and sat beside Jaskier, now in tears after he described just what Geralt had done. "Before, before my life on the path. My, my father... He was an alcoholic. He did terrible things to me, and to my mother. He slapped her, cut her, raped her. I hated being able to do nothing, not being able to change anything." Lambert's quiet voice became deafened by the sound of a nearby Scoia'tael. Strumming on a Lute, and playing some ornate tune in elvish.

"Looks like we're not so different, little bird." Lambert let out a soft smile towards Jaskier as the witcher's eyes lingered. "Got to say, never really enjoyed elvish. I'm sure our squirrel pal over there wouldn't mind a tune from a bard as famed as you." Lambert nudged Jaskier's now healed side as he took another swig from his drink. Jaskier laughed lightly, not wanting to leave the warmth and safety he felt by Lambert's side. “Still kinda out of it… Fuck it. Why not.” Jaskier broke eye contact with the witcher, snatched Lambert's drink off of him, and finished it off. The bard sighed deeply as he stood, lugging himself towards the female elf.

"Haha, knew the songbird wouldn't disappoint, now play something for me- fit for a hall!" Lambert bellowed, puffing out a cloud of smoke as he lay back on the bench, arms wide. Jaskier took some time to carefully retune the lute and brushed himself off as he swayed and stumbled before introducing himself to a small group of Scoia'tael. "Thank you all, I am the bard Jaskier, and this one is a real tale, of a terrible tragedy, Princess Annie, who drowned in the river of fanny!" Lambert clapped with the crowd as Jaskier started to recount the tale, the elves watched on in horror, scarred by the true nature of mankind.

* * *

Geralt entered the river, his scarred, muscular torso descending into the water, which was only lit by the fading light of the stars in the sky above. Unsure of what to do with himself, he bathed in the freezing cold. Hair wet, rolling onto the peak of his chin, which then soon dropped into the lake below. He took a deep sigh, before holding his breath, descending into the water and staying there for longer than he should. Alone with his thoughts. After he ascended, he swam out into the lake, ignoring the cold.

Making his way idly into the middle of the lake, Geralt knew somewhere deep that he couldn't keep going with these feelings in his heart. Even his eyes could hardly make out the shoreline where the felled tree lay. Knowing that he had to confront his own emotions, towards himself, his anger, and Jaskier. Geralt crawled through the water, exerting every muscle in his body as he panted along, his mutated heart trying to reconcile the energy he was spending crashing through the water. In almost an instant, Geralt was back near the tree, coming out of the water as his body felt the chill of a wind howling. He ambled up and struck up a fire with Igni as he warmed himself up.

* * *

Jaskier, having recounted his crude ballad just a few hours prior laughed, again at Lambert's side, somewhat comforted by him. The rest of the Scoia'tael camp had retired, as Lambert managed to yet again finish another anecdote- this time about his days in Kaer Morhen, being scolded by a witcher named Eskel. Jaskier laughed and replied, "And what, you just run off into the wilderness like that, convinced that you could become a Witcher without performing the trial of grasses?" Lambert smiled as he earnestly replied, "I wish I was that naive now."

With only a group of candles and a few empty bottles of strong liquor between them, Lambert looked deeply into Jaskier's eyes. The bard inched his hands closer to Lambert's thighs. "Fuck it", he thought, as Jaskier drunkenly leaned in, heart aflutter as he inched his hand towards Lambert's thigh. Lambert paid no mind as he kissed Jaskier. Quickly pulling back before saying "My tent's much more comfortable, Songbird."

Lambert stood up and took Jaskier’s hand. Now under the influence of both alcohol and the Scoia’tael medicine, the bard got up and made his way into Lambert's tent, looking down and smiling to himself as he bit his bottom lip at the thought of what was to come. The pair stepped into the tent, hand in hand, giving Jaskier the comfort that at this moment, only Lambert could give him.

Lambert dropped his hand away from Jaskier, turning to look the bard in his eyes, their faces only a lit by a candle that Lambert had just ignited with a click of his fingers. Jaskier turned his gaze to the flame as Lambert smirked at him. “Doesn’t take much to impress you, eh?” The witcher pulled Jaskier’s hips towards him, wrapping one arm around the bard, and another around the back of Jaskier’s head as the cat-eyed witcher softly pressed his lips against the soft, well-spoken face of his little Songbird. The bard let go in the moment, all he thought he wanted was right with him, in that tent.

Their kissing grew in intensity, as Lambert started to pull Jaskier’s top off, revealing his small frame. Jaskier put his arms around Lambert, who started to take his own clothes off. Lambert started to kiss Jaskier's body, moving lower as he caressed his torso and hips. Tugging Jaskier’s pants down along the way, revealing his throbbing rod, which glistened under the light with the slightest peek of precum. "Little early for that, I am not near done with you."

The night’s desire grew larger as Lambert pushed Jaskier to the ground. “Nowhere near, little bird.” Lambert asserted softly as he used the strength of his muscles to turn Jaskier over, revealing his supple bottom. Lambert began to spank Jaskier as he winced, with the slightest tinge of pain. Lambert bent to grip Jaskier’s cock and began to caress it as he continued to spank the bard, who was now moaning in pleasure.

“Harder.” Jaskier faintly said as he let out a soft groan. Lambert increased in intensity as he found the proposition of Jaskier presenting himself to him too much to handle. The witcher stripped the rest of his clothes off, revealing the rest of his scar-ridden, well-endowed body. Lambert spat into his hand as he contorted it around Jaskier’s entry, before inserting himself into the bard.

Jaskier started to breathe heavily, as the tent began to warm up, taking in the Witcher with pleasure. Some of that Scoia'tael medicine still hadn't completely worn off as Jaskier tried to fend off the pain. Lambert continued with harsh intensity as his own hips met Jaskier’s as they both inched closer to climax. Getting faster, harder and rougher with each movement, Jaskier began to cum as Lambert began to slow in pace as Jaskier felt Lambert throb within him as the witcher reached the apex of his own ecstasy.

Pulling away and rolling over next to him, Lambert had finished as Jaskier became intensely aware of his surroundings; Lambert's tent had encroaching mold, and the delicate bard felt another pang of pain from where Lambert had just left. He felt unclean, dirty and disgusted with himself. "More interesting than you look" Lambert laughed. Jaskier was unsure as to how to reply, becoming increasingly uncomfortable at his own nakedness. He felt a warm drip as he reached back and found blood.

"I, I have to go." Jaskier hurriedly said as he started to make his way out of the tent. "We'll catch up with him in the morning." Lambert replied as he sighed. "Old whitehair forgot that we split the reward." Lambert uttered as Jaskier left. The witcher took a small sniff of the air before stretching his arms, putting his hands behind his head. "Hadn't done that in a while" he uttered underneath his breath, now alone.

As dawn came, Lambert rode with Jaskier back into the nearby forest. "Listen, we probably shouldn't mention last night." Lambert quipped as they rode. Jaskier didn't reply, clearly regretting the events of the night before. "Anyway, I know Geralt, and I am damn angry, even if he was drunk, it was no way to treat you." Lambert started to frown as the events embedded into his own memory flashed before him. A blur of hands and the pungent smell of spirits flowed into his senses. Jaskier quietly ruminated as the pair rode onward, on the thought that if it were Geralt, he might have enjoyed what had happened, and may have not been treated as roughly as Lambert did. He knew that's not what he wanted, and only something that Geralt could give him. Geralt's actions were not easily excusable, and if Lambert talking to him was a means to an end, he'd let the matter lie. Jaskier wouldn't speak for himself, and Lambert understood the gravity of what Geralt had done to him just a few nights before.

Geralt's ears perked up as he heard the trotting of hooves. He was no longer by the lakeside, but deep in the forest, looking for herbs and anything that might help him with the contract. As he looked for herbs to brew, a familiar voice called out. "Can smell your shits for miles, what the fuck do you put in your own body?" It was Lambert, and behind him on the horse was Jaskier. Any sense of contentment that Geralt had reached the night before slipped away as he approached the horse. Lambert dismounted and met Geralt's eyes, the two just inches away from each other. They both exchanged a fiery look as Lambert swung a right hook to the side of Geralt's head, leaving the white-haired witcher stumbling to the side before he retaliated with a swift hand, using Aard to push Lambert away.

"The fuck are you doing?" Geralt shouted. Lambert, shaken from the hit of the sign, but still on his feet. "Playing dirty, are we?" the rough-looking witcher retorted before grabbing Geralt's hair and kneeing him in the solar plexus. Winded, Geralt stumbled back, shocked by the sudden assault. "Think you can get away with shit like that?" Lambert spat at Geralt's face, before the White Wolf wiped it off with his thumb, before grabbing Lambert by his collar. "Spouting shite as always." Geralt replied, before attempting to throw Lambert down a hill. Jaskier looked on, but before he knew it- Lambert managed to hold onto Geralt as they barreled down the hill together.

"Forcing yourself on him while blind drunk, the fuck are you thinking!" Lambert screamed into Geralt's face at the Kaer Morhen duo reached the foot of the hill. "W-what?" Geralt replied as he loosened his grip on Lambert's collar. "Oh come on. You don't remember?" Lambert barked as he let go of Geralt and began to stand up. Geralt kneeled forwards, resting an arm on his knee, with one leg outstretched. "I, what?"

"Looks like you two need to sort your shit out." Lambert replied, wiping the blood from his chin and walking off, stretching his arms behind his head. Geralt saw someone at the top of the hill, who he quickly recognised as Jaskier, arms folded across his body.

**Author's Note:**

> My fiance actually wrote this for me and he is a debatably straight, large man so I cannot take credit as I am a small female. He's a writer by trade so thought he could do a good job so any feedback I will give to him directly :) let me know what you all think of his smutty creation. If you guys like it more will follow!!


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